


Malediction, Not Maleficarum

by longnoideatime



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Incest, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longnoideatime/pseuds/longnoideatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kind of twisted one shot between a hateful Carver and messed up F!Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malediction, Not Maleficarum

"Come on, Carver," she said, kissing his neck.

He groaned and hit the back of his head against the cold stone wall, resisting. 

Her hand strayed down over the metal of his breastplate. Come on, Carver, come on.

Her hand stroked his cock through his skirts, and despite himself he was hard, aching to be inside her.

She laughed, the low throaty sound of a desire demon, which was what she had to be. 

She'd instilled this sick craving in him, and he loathed it, loathed her, loathed what she did to him, her domination so complete that he let her.

His hands bruised her, though he was never sure her skin couldn't bruise him back.

Her mouth: wet.

Her teeth: sharp.

Her fingers: nimble. Able to find his weakest spots. Skilled. 

Refractory, at least to any wishes he might have expressed. 

Recusant, at least to any rules he had tried vainly to set.

Sometimes he didn't see her face, but Merrill's.

Sometimes it wasn't her teeth or fingernails that cruelly pulled red beads of blood from beneath his skin, but Bethany's.

He fucked her harder then, a punishment for her for not being Merrill. 

A punishment for giving him an outlet for the mild curiosity he'd always had about Bethany, for making the thoughts sicker and more depraved. 

Punishment for her being able to see it, them.

Punishment for him too, when he slammed the full weight of his body into her. 

Punishment for being as detestable as he was.

She never stopped until he was naked and begging before her. A weak maggot she only didn't crush because she didn't feel like cleaning him off her shoe.

She only sometimes undressed, another display of her power, and their inequality.

She liked it better when they were within the walls of his new Templar order, and knew that even when he'd been sent to fetch her-- the most famous apostate of them all-- she could make him beg to be sheathed inside her while they waited for his superiors. 

He almost hoped they were caught, so it could finally be over.

Then he worried that he would kill whoever knew, so it would never stop.

This was the kind of turpitude that led to obsession, possessive rages, and murder, wasn't it? They were too unequal for it to last a lifetime, him as her partner in crime.

She was never frightened, even when he found that darkness within him and his fingers wrapped around her throat and he squeezed--

She laughed in his face then, and he would snarl, and go back to pumping his hatred into her with every thrust.

Hawke.

His sister.

Invective whisper.

Hawke would kill him.


End file.
